


salted caramel behind the spotlights

by winluvr



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Celebrity AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25560187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winluvr/pseuds/winluvr
Summary: in which the famous akaashi keiji, model and singer all in one, falls in love with kozume kenma, the boy with golden hair and honey eyes behind the counter of the café he wanders into.this work is a part of kenma ship week 2020 with the prompt “celebrity / coffee shop au.”
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Kozume Kenma, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou
Kudos: 62
Collections: Kenma Ship Week 2020





	salted caramel behind the spotlights

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this is extremely cliché and feels like one of those y/n stories you'd read in 2012 but this was a prompt that had been festering in my mind for a few months now and i just decided to write it last night. i hope you enjoy this even a little !!!

Everything that fashion model, singer and songwriter Akaashi Keiji does and says makes the headlines on the magazines sitting on your family’s living room table. Kozume Kenma works at a little café situated in the middle of Tokyo, serving endless cups of coffee to college students with bags under their eyes to help them get through the day. Their lives intersect one day.

The highways and the wheels of his jet-black car know more about Akaashi Keiji than he does of himself. On that matter, both unfortunately and fortunately at the same time, he has never learned to drive. On the list of pros, he muses that he at least does need to spend a sizable portion of his pay check on gasoline. He also gets to steal a glimpse of ( _ read: stare at as his mind enters a deep trance _ ) the arms of his personal driver Kuroo as his grip on the steering wheel tightens and his knuckles turn a feverish shade of white. As for the cons, there are many. Kuroo is easy on the eyes, but he can be an absolute hazard on the road. He does not go easy on the brakes. He never goes easy on anything. Akaashi sighs as Kuroo nearly slams the car right into a truck and puts “learn how to drive” at the top of his mental to-do list.  _ This is going to be a long day. _

Akaashi’s personal assistant as well as bodyguard, Bokuto merely chuckles at his boyfriend’s antics and flashes a blinding grin at the exasperated Akaashi. “‘S okay, ‘kaashi,” he says, patting his cuff to straighten it out a bit. “You’re not going to be late for your shoot.” 

❀

Bokuto Koutarou is always right, as he says he is. 

Akaashi arrived on the set ten minutes earlier than the expected time. He greeted the people around him who were immediately entranced with his presence and became flustered and hurried to get things ready. This is what it’s like to be famous. He secretly wonders what it would like to have a normal life without people being intimidated because of your presence in a room. His make-up is done. He poses for an hour or two. This is all part of a routine he has gotten more than used to. 

Bokuto hands him a handkerchief the moment they step outside. Akaashi takes it and wipes his forehead quickly before folding and placing it in his pocket. The silence pierces through the hot afternoon and Akaashi is the first to speak. “You know what,” he ponders aloud. He adds, without waiting for his friend to ask, “A caramel macchiato sounds good right now.”

❀

The chestnut brown tinted windows of the coffee shop do nothing to ease the warmth of the afternoon. What used to feel like a tender gaze now feels like a sharp glare. The golden rays of the sun feel like they are piercing right through Kenma’s skin as he prepares the third caffe americano for the customer sitting right next to the windowsill. He was generous at giving tips and Kenma knew perfectly well how hard finals week could be so he didn’t have the heart to tell him to leave. 

Fukunaga whistles as he replaces the strawberry cheesecakes sitting on the display. “It’s a lazy day today,” he muses, stretching his arms with a yawn. 

“Yeah, thank God for that,” Kenma says as he wipes his hands on his faded jeans with a sigh. “I just wanna go home,” he grunts. “I think I’m gonna die here.”

“Hold on for a while,” Fukunaga says, a look of pure innocence on his face. “Don’t die on me yet. We still haven’t gotten paid.” Kenma was not sure whether he was being cheeky or he was actually being genuine. Regardless of what he meant, he laughs. Fukunaga is always somehow funny and he doesn’t even know it.

“Yeah, Kenma-san,” Lev, the new part-time worker, says. “I don’t know how to clean up a dead body yet.” He continues to brush off the crumbs on the counter.

Kenma snorts before he responds. “That’s really the first of your concerns?” However, their bickering is cut short with the sound of the door swinging open to reveal someone wearing a black turtleneck and a white facemask. A sweater in the middle of summer.  _ Was it a new fashion trend? It doesn’t seem very practical.  _ He looked sort of like some fashion model but Kenma didn’t know what an actual model would do in their remote coffee shop when there were bigger and better ones scattered all over the country. Kenma sets his eyes on the person behind them, who was holding a clipboard on one hand and a bag of fast food in the other, looking like a lost puppy without a leash. 

Fukunaga whispers from behind him to Lev. “Hey, look,” he says, his voice belying a fascination. “Do my eyes deceive me or is that  _ the  _ Akaashi Keiji?” The name does not ring a bell in Kenma’s mind. 

As if on cue, Akaashi saunters toward the counter. Kenma straightens up and greets him. He tugs down on his white facemask before he speaks. “Tall caramel macchiato, please,” he says. He takes a good look at Kenma, peering through his sunglasses, and his jaw goes slack for a millisecond before he recollects his thoughts. “Oh… On second thought, make it a grande.”

❀

“So you’re telling me,” Bokuto says as they walk to the stationery shop beside Akaashi’s apartment, “that the barista was  _ cute _ as hell and you didn’t even stop to flirt with them?” Bokuto has a bewildered look on his face like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. The sky is blue. Akaashi Keiji cannot flirt. Those are just facts of the universe. “Did Kuroo and I not raise you right?”

Akaashi sighs. “I can’t do that, you know.” They step inside the shop and Akaashi immediately walks toward the rack of journals and sticker sheets. He picks out a little brown leather journal with a golden wide-eyed owl on the front and pays for it immediately to avoid getting recognized by anyone. Akaashi didn’t particularly like getting stopped by fans and pushed around in crowds. 

“Why not?” Bokuto questions as if he didn’t know the reason perfectly well. “If it’s about your reputation, well, you’re literally Akaashi Keiji. Come on, give yourself some slack. You can date who you want. The media has nothing bad to say about you. They pretty much worship the ground you walk on.” He says all of this matter-of-factly and Akaashi can’t be bothered to rebut.

“We can just go to the coffee shop again,” Akaashi says, swiftly changing the topic. “It’s only a few minutes away anyway. I can use the time to write some lyrics.”

❀

Akaashi Keiji does not, in fact, spend his time penning new lyrics for a new hit song on his new journal. He spends his time stealing glimpses at the boy at the counter, with golden hair with black roots and eyes the color of the deepest honey that he had ever seen. The boy looks back and Akaashi steers his gaze away toward his phone, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. Bokuto merely clicks his tongue at him and continues texting his boyfriend about their current endeavors.

The boy with cat-like golden eyes, fortunately, is the one to take his order. “One caramel macchiato, one cappuccino and one cinnamon roll,” Akaashi manages to say before stuttering. “Make both a grande, please. Thank you.” He hands the money over but it’s not as smooth of a transaction as he thinks it would be.

“Your hand is shaking, sir,” the boy says, his tone as soft, as gentle as ever. “Are you alright? Are you sure you didn’t have too much coffee?” He does not press for an answer but he grips Akaashi’s hand to steady it.

Akaashi is at a loss for words. His cheeks flush a deeper red until Bokuto has to step in. “Don’t mind, don’t mind. It’s just a tremor,” he lies breezily, waving it off. “On that note, can I ask for your number, sir?” 

“Oh, um, I’ll type it in your phone,” the boy says shyly. He reaches his hand out and Bokuto has to slip his hand in Akaashi’s pocket. The boy’s fingers glide over the keyboard quickly and hands it over to him. 

“Thank you,” Akaashi says. Bokuto nudges him. “I just wanted to tell you that I– I think you’re pretty.”

The pudding-haired boy does not know how to respond to that. He mutters a quick “thank you” and goes back to work but neither Akaashi nor Bokuto misses the faint smile that dawns on his face before he turns around.

❀

Akaashi stares at the phone in his hands. The contact name reads the boy’s name written in lowercase letters with a smiling cat emoji at the end. He has never actually needed to text anyone else except Kuroo or Bokuto for small favors here and there. He was usually the one who was texted by those who needed to confirm for a shoot and other reasons, not the other way around. He types and deletes a text before retyping it. After a few minutes of consideration, going back and forth, he finally hits ‘send’ on the message.

“ _ Hello, Kenma. This is Akaashi. Coffee shop guy _ .” His text seems a bit vague and his tone feels dry, but his hands feel too clammy to send anything more. The seemingly perfect, calm and collected Akaashi Keiji simply does not know how to act around cute boys.

It does not take long for him to receive a reply. “ _ hi, akaashi, _ ” the text reads. “ _ do you need anything?”  _

Akaashi rolls over on his bed. “Are you free today?” He hits send before his mind can think it over. “Do you want to hang out with me or something?”

“ _ yeah,”  _ Kenma’s text says. “ _ or something :) _ ”

❀

They end up going on a casual hang-out in the café. Kenma said they didn’t mind because he lived in the same area, it was his off day anyway and Fukunaga served the best pastries. He said this all in one short breath, as if he was trying not to make Akaashi feel bad. Kuroo advised him not to take Kenma anywhere that was too crowded or too modern for the risk of being recognized or getting mobbed on their date. He knew very well that the boy might feel uncomfortable and Akaashi might get a migraine. Akaashi does not want to call it a date. He insists it is only a hang-out. None of them agree but nobody calls him out on it.

“So you’re, like,  _ the  _ Akaashi Keiji,” Kenma says to him over apple pie and sweet tea drinks. “Why me?” he asks before taking a sip of his pomegranate tea. 

“Why not you?” Akaashi asks earnestly. Kenma looks down at the ground due to a loss for words before looking back at Akaashi who was smiling at him. “I said yesterday that I think you’re pretty, and it’s true.” 

Kenma takes a small bite of the apple pie Akaashi bought him. “Thank you,” he says, finally finding the slight courage to flirt back. “I can’t deny that you’re pretty cute yourself too.” He has never felt this way before. The beat of his heart drums through his chest. They share small facts about one another within the span of two hours, careful not to expose the entirety of their being but they pick up on the little habits and rituals before eating and speaking and every little thing.

Akaashi does not want to call it a date. Not yet. But Kenma just might. They remain in contact a few months after, going on little dates here and there in small secluded areas in the middle of Tokyo, driven around by Kuroo, and somewhere in between, they fall in love and share a kiss. Just a peck. But a kiss all the same. It’s not exactly love at first sight. It was more of an infatuation that developed into love, the process agonizingly slow but sure, but it was love all the same.

  
  



End file.
